#I posted some WiPs with dates yesterday too if anyone's interested

[candlebel]

Amo al robopayaso. xd

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday!

Wednesdays seem to come around a lot faster than they used to, I swear.

I was planning on posting the WIP which I posted yesterday today, an excerpt from the beginning of my vampire Balgruuf AU, but I was just so excited about it I had to post it then. Instead, have Elyse and Hrongar preparing to fight over whose sword is better for the next chapter of The Perfect Storm.

Tagging @throughtrialbyfire, @wildhexe, @thequeenofthewinter, @friend-of-giants and anyone else who wishes to say I tagged them, though obviously there is no pressure or obligations to do so :)

“I know what we can do!” Frothar cried out, getting between the two of them before their bickering about swords could intensify to a full-blown argument. “You can have a fight against each other! Hrongar, you can use your greatsword, and Elyse, you can use your magic swords - the winner can claim that they have the better one,” he stated, looking incredibly proud of himself for coming up with that compromise. “That way, I get to see both types in action!”

Elyse had to admit… it was a surprisingly good idea. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that seeing variety in types of swords being used would likely be beneficial in teaching how to use one – she had been all too focussed on defending her own method of fighting. “I see no harm in that, but it depends on whether your uncle could bring himself around to losing to me.”

“Pah! Big talk for someone whose weapons aren’t even real,” he retorted, though the corner of his lips were clearly turning up. “You’re on, Dragonborn. But I want there to be stakes at play. Got to make this interesting so that the lad doesn’t see anything half-assed.”

There had been almost no hesitation when he brought up stakes. That, at least to her, read as him having some sort of motive. Almost as if... he had planned to gatecrash her lesson with Frothar from the beginning. Then again, this was Hrongar - the man was known for being brash and not thinking before speaking. “What do you have in mind?”

“If I win, you join me at the Bannered Mare for drinks tonight.”

Her reaction to what he wanted was one of bafflement, because it sounded very much like he was asking her on a date. Was Hrongar flirting? Was this what Irileth was warning her about when saying to not accept any drinks from him?

“And you have to match me drink for drink – and let me tell you, I don’t get drunk easy.”

It definitely had her feeling uncomfortable because she was the exact opposite to that. The last time that she had ended up drunk was back when she was celebrating defeating Alduin, and Lydia had laughed and called her a lightweight in the morning as she fought off a hangover, and that was well over a year and a half ago. Then again… that was in the nature of stakes, they were meant to make you uncomfortable, meant to make you need to win. “Fine then. And if I win… I get your greatsword. As a trophy, not to use,” she stated, bringing her hand up to her chin. “As for winning conditions… Disarming is no good, because my weapons by their very nature cannot be disarmed – how about drawing first blood to raise the stakes even more?”

“You are talking my language. No holding back either.”

“Are you certain about that? Because if I weren’t to hold back, that means that you will also have to handle my thu’um,” she taunted, stepping closer to him and standing on her toes so that she didn’t have to crane her neck as much to look up at him. “Or would you prefer me just sticking to my swords?” Based on the slight motion of his throat, she took that as agreement with the latter question. “Just swords it is.”

They had almost completely forgotten about Frothar, who was still stood by them, watching as they goaded each other on. Not that it mattered much… the boy was too busy bracing himself in preparation for what was likely going to be one of the most intense fights he had ever witnessed, and it was exciting.

[collecting-stories]

could you do any little rafe blurbs🥺

I actually had this sitting in my drafts because I’ve been working on a Rafe series and this was part of a chapter that I had started to write. So I just consider this a blurb and a WIP lol.

-

“You did what?” You whispered harshly, turning your body in more toward Rafe, knee bumping his as you moved. He had texted you earlier in the morning that he had maybe, possibly, said something to his ex that you wouldn’t be thrilled about. The text hadn’t made much sense at the time but as you dropped down beside him in the dining hall and he began the explanation over again, starting with “don’t be mad,” you realized exactly what had happened. And maybe you weren’t mad but you were far from happy.

“She won’t leave me alone,” Rafe huffed, as if it was some great imposition on his end that his ex-girlfriend didn’t think ghosting her constituted as a break-up. “It’s not like it’s unbelievable.”

“I literally had lunch with her yesterday Rafe, she’s gonna think I’m a total asshole for not saying something.” You replied, trying to keep your voice down so no one heard you.

As annoyed as you were, Rafe had a point. If it was believable that he had moved on to anyone else so quickly after the break-up it would be you. His best friend and roommate, who was sitting in the dining hall practically leaning into his chair as you talked. His ex-girlfriend had always been suspicious of the two of you, as if you were sneaking around behind her back, and she had been reasonably convinced that Rafe had feelings for you. Post breakup she’d seemed to come around somewhat though you were mostly convinced that she was only trying to befriend you to get Rafe back. Something he confirmed himself.

“It’ll be fine,” he seemed completely convinced as he leaned back against the wooden chair, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to look over at you, “besides, it’s not like you guys were great friends.”

“That’s not the point,” you rolled your eyes, “she thinks we’re dating. You told her that we’re dating.”

“She suggested it.” Rafe countered. When he’d told her that he was seeing someone else, which he wasn’t, she had jumped immediately to the conclusion that it was you. Yours was the first name off her lips as she questioned him and Rafe went along with it. He’d asked you out freshman year anyway. You were his best friend but there had definitely been a time when he had imagined you being more than that, it wasn’t so hard to convince her.

“We need some ground rules-“

“This feels very To All the Boys,” Rafe cut in. You’d made him watch all three movies in one night and he’d joined in your bitching whenever you felt like Lara Jean was being too self-centred or Peter was being a dick. “Better watch out, you might fall in love with me. Thinking it’s just fake dating and then you’re like ‘oh Rafe, I love you so much’.”

“Shut the fuck up you moron.” You rolled your eyes, “just for that, no kissing me.”

“Oh come on,” Rafe huffed, “have you met me? Who’s gonna believe that we’re dating if I’m not allowed to kiss you?”

“No one needs to believe it but your ex.” You replied, “and frankly I would prefer that she not believe it either. It’s stupid that you’re doing all this, just tell her you aren’t interested in dating her.”

“It’s more complicated then that.” He moaned.

“This is stupid Rafe,” you repeated. You stood up, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, “I’m not gonna be party to your dumb ideas.”

Before you could walk away from the table he grabbed your wrist, keeping you stuck in place, “please, just a week.”

You shook your head. If anything was a stupid idea it was this. You were used to Rafe’s hair brain ideas though and more often than not he pulled you into them too, a semi-willing participant in whatever dumb shit he did. Better to support your friends and go down with them right? Maybe.

Rafe was still staring up at you with puppy dog eyes and his bottom lip jutting out like he was a five year old begging his mom for candy at the grocery store. You took your wrist away from his grasp and then leaned down, holding his face in your hands and kissing him right on the mouth. When you finally broke the kiss (a mere couple of seconds later) Rafe leaned back in his seat again, looking entirely too smug with himself.

“Do you need me to tell you I love you too?” You countered, standing up straight and fixing the strap of your bag.

“It’s okay, I already know you love me, you don’t need to proclaim it in front of everyone.”

“There’s like five people in here, hardly ‘everyone’.” You rubbed your lips together then, the taste finally settling in, “god what is on your mouth.”

“Wheezie left her root beer chapstick and I’ve been using it.”

“Well it’s disgusting.”

[dcbbw]

WIP Wednesday 1/1/2020

I was tagged by @ao719​ and @bobasheebaby​ for the first WIP Wednesday of 2020. 

Not going to saddle folks with a breakdown of my 28,000 and counting never-ending WIPs list. Instead, below is the next wave of fics coming your way.All postings are still in a state of draft and subject to change. Sneak peeks are under the cut. 

 Object of Affection, Chapter 4

His feet led him back to her bed. He sat heavily on the edge of it, his head bowed. Suddenly, he had a thought, and pulled out his phone. Liam quickly dialed Bastien, his head of security, and asked if anyone had been to the formal dining room for breakfast.

No.

With a thank you, Liam hung up. He dialed Maxwell, who finally answered on the fourth ring.

“Liam? What do you want at the crack of dawn?”

“It’s 9:30, Lord Beaumont.”

“Same difference. What’s up?”

Liam paused for a moment, embarrassed to ask the question. “Have you heard from Lady Riley? She appears to not be in the Palace.”

Silence on Maxwell’s end. “She’s going back to the States. You really hurt her yesterday. She said she could deal with you not liking her and possibly never loving her, but she wasn’t dealing with your disrespect.”

Liam’s eyes closed. “I ….I was out of line yesterday, I know that now. I would appreciate the opportunity to apologize to her.” He swallowed audibly. “Is she there with you in Ramsford?”

“No. No, she isn’t. She may stop by though.”

Liam hung up, wondering why he felt so lost. He looked at his phone again, berating himself for not asking Maxwell for Lady Riley’s phone number. His thumb idly scrolled through his contacts; he stopped at a name. His throat tightened as he read her name.

Olivia.

His heart ached with questions about her, about them. Before he could change his mind, he fired off a text to her.

Anton, Chapter 5

Drake stormed down the cellblock, thoughts swirling in his head. He didn’t mind so much that the prisoner knew about him and Liam; they weren’t exactly the best kept secret in Court. He could even deal with knowing Liam fucked Riley first; hell, they were both fucking her now.

But Bartie……NO ONE knew about his parentage except him, Savannah, Rashad, and Riley. Drake never told Liam; Rashad would never talk, and Riley swore to Drake she would keep his secret.

What was the old saying? Two can keep a secret ….if one of them is dead.

And the money…..no one knew about the money except Savannah.

His thoughts turned to the final part of the conversation; someone set his father up to be murdered, arranged the murder of Liam’s mother, and sent Drake’s mother away. Someone close to him….Drake was close to 4 people: Savannah, Bastien, Liam, and Riley. None of them could have anything to do with it.

Who?

DC AU, Chapter 4

Penelope was unhappy.

When Penelope first met Ezekiel, she was intrigued by him. He was a doctor with a practice. A private practice, not part of some conglomerate. She was slightly taken aback that he was a veterinarian, but he was still a doctor. Penelope liked educated men.

He had been so attentive in the beginning: texts and phone calls, flowers for no occasion, weekend trips. Once Penelope began working in the practice, it ended. Ezekiel shot down her date night ideas and plans, saying they spent all day together, five days a week. He needed his evenings and weekends to decompress.

He wasn’t generous like Liam; when she ran short on money, Ezekiel reminded her he paid her a very competitive salary, and Penelope needed to learn to budget. He wasn’t supportive like Liam; he had no interest in her hobbies or her volunteering at the animal shelter.

There were no how are you texts. No pictures of lunch. No pictures of an on point sock game. Just coffee in the morning where Ezekiel reminded Penelope of his schedule, and charts to be filed throughout the day. Penelope was realizing she had made a mistake. She should have stuck it out with Liam. She wondered if he had made junior partner. She wondered if he missed her.

Ezekiel clearing his throat brought her back to the present.

“How are you, my dear?” He added sugar and cream to his coffee. Penelope had already done so, but he always added his own.

Penelope gave a fake cough. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

The doctor frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it doesn’t interfere with you duties. This week is packed with patients.”

Penelope’s eyes fell. “I’ll try to not let that happen.”

But she was already planning. She had to see Kiara, tell her things weren’t working out with her brother

And then she would go see Liam. She knew all he did was work and hang out with his friends. There was no one in his life.

He had loved her before; he would again. She knew how to get him back. She knew all of his weaknesses.

Riam, One Big Happy

With a small smile, the Queen excused herself from the table and went over to collect the boys for a bathroom run. As usual, Frac insisted he didn’t have to go. Riley debated taking him along anyway but that would mean another disruption, and she knew the importance of this presentation. She collected Fric and left Frac playing.

Frac saw his mommy and his brother leaving him behind and he burst into loud sobs of Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Riley stopped in her tracks, and walked back to collect Frac. Frac went happily until he looked around for Liam and didn’t see him. His eyes spotted his father and realized they were leaving Daddy behind.

He wailed again for Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Everyone’s head turned. Riley gave an embarrassed smile, asking His Majesty to please continue but Frac refused to leave. Riley kept a firm grip on one of his hands while his other arm was outstretched towards Liam. Wails of Oopa, Daddy! Oopa, Daddy! carried through the room while fat tears streaked down the toddler’s face. Liam immediately called for a 15 minute recess. It passed unanimously.

The family went to the restroom; everyone had to go. There was applause for Frac and no privacy for the parents. Afterwards, Riley fed the boys a snack and gave them chocolate milk to drink. The meeting resumed with no further interruptions.

When the meeting adjourned, the royal family headed back to their chambers, Riley and Liam each carrying a child. Their free hands were clasped together. Maxwell walked with them, carrying the baby bag and bags of toys.

Riley kissed Fric on his chubby cheek, cooing to him. “Did you have fun today, Poot? Did you like the Council Meeting?” Fric giggled into her neck. Riley rested her cheek against his hair; she lifted it when she felt Liam squeeze her hand. Her gaze fell on her husband and she smiled with love and happiness.

Riam, Dinner with Friends

Yu pulled a chair over to the table. She squeezed in between Riley and Olivia, her body facing Riley’s. Yu gently rubbed Riley’s back. “When are you going to find someone, dumpling? Someone to make you happy and give you orgasms?”

Riley blushed from Yu’s attention. “I have someone, LoveBug.”

“Yes, she does have someone. Me. The King, in case either of you have forgotten”, Liam bit out tightly. “And I give her LOTS of orgasms. I give her ALL the orgasms.”

Leo smirked as he popped a piece of crab ragoon in his mouth. “Looks like Li and the waitress are about to whip out their dicks out to see whose is bigger.”

“My money’s on the waitress”, Olivia replied.

“Mine too”, Hana agreed.

I am also tossing ideas around for a Riam fic where the couple reminisce over photographs and we learn a little more about Riley’s family, AND a briefcase smut fic told in first person POV from both Riley and Liam’s perspective.

So what are you working on: @bbrandy2002​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @jessiembruno​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @glaimtruelovealways​ @ritachacha​ @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria​ @katedrakeohd​

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Cornelia Street (5/9)

A/N: oh my god they were quarantined

yes. It’s one of those fics.

AU, obvs

I’m posting as I go and idk how many parts this is going to be, likely won’t be very long but I literally don’t know what I’m doing and should i be starting yet another WIP? definitely not but fuck it lets fucking go

Title is from T-swizzles Lover album, I’m OBSESSED

Summary: Three years ago, Kurt and Blaine went on a disaster of a date and never quite got off on the right foot. Now, just before they graduate from NYADA, there’s a national outbreak and they’re both self-quarantined in a mutual friend’s apartment.

Read On AO3

On Tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

In the morning (which is really closer to noon because college), they decide to make breakfast together because according to Kurt, “It just makes logistical sense. Why use more dishes than necessary making two separate meals?”

Of course, Blaine readily agrees. Because logistics. And the best kind of logistics include getting to know Kurt better. The domesticity of it all is strangely… intimate, and Blaine can’t help but note how normal and natural it all feels, as if every morning was meant to start off this way and… Jesus, Sam would be having a field day if he could see in Blaine’s mind right now.

He’s whisking some pancake batter when he remembers his best friend’s promise of snooping. Yeah, he probably needs to do some damage control on that. 

“You uh, didn’t happen to get a text from Sam last night, did you?” he asks, keeping his gaze fixed on the batter to try and downplay his interest in Kurt’s response. 

Kurt shakes his head, shrugs nonchalantly, and  cracks an egg into the pan. “No.” Then he suddenly snaps his head up at Blaine, a little frantic. “Why, did Mercedes text you?”

“Nope,” Blaine says, aware that his response is too quick and voice too high. “I was just curious, that’s all.” He lets out a little sigh of relief and keeps stirring until the muscles in his arm and wrist are exhausted. “How much longer do I have to keep mixing this?” he asks.

“You should be about done, just let me catch up with the eggs.” He gives a little smirk in Blaine’s direction. “Watch this,” he says, and with a flick of his wrist, flips the egg in the pan without even using a spatula.

“Woah!” Blaine goads, visibly impressed. He sets aside the bowl, pulse quickening a little before he asks, “Can you show me?” 

Kurt lifts his head and Blaine is looking into his now vibrant blue eyes (they looked pale green in the dim lighting of the bedroom last night, Blaine remembers, irises wide pools of indigo). The paler boy’s eyebrows lift, just barely. The movement would have gone completely unnoticed if it were anyone else, but Blaine tends to notice everything about Kurt since last night. 

Like how the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window makes his hair a crown of light, dark in the center and almost red at the edges, or how the way his neck curves seems like it could be the perfect place for Blaine to rest his own head, or even trail his lips down.

“Yeah, sure,” Kurt says with a soft smile. He tilts his head to the left, beckining Blaine to come to his side. “Here, take the handle,” Kurt says. Blaine does, and Kurt wraps his hand around Blaine’s, sliding closer and closer until their sides are pressed up against each other, warm and solid.

Blaine’s breath hitches in his suddenly dry throat.

“It’s all in the wrist,” Kurt says, voice low and suddenly quiet. With a quick flick, the egg flips smoothly. He tilts his chin down to look at the slightly shorter boy, but Blaine’s already looking up at him. 

Heat crawls to Blaine’s face at being caught and he quickly turns away, clearing his throat, missing the way Kurt does the same.

“So, my young protégée,” Kurt says banteringly after a moment. “Do you think you're ready to do this on your own?”

“I was born ready.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, taking a step back while Blaine attempts the flip on his own. He hears Kurt stifle a laugh when the egg yolk explodes all over the pan.

“This is so sad…” Blaine begins sarcastically, staring with mock sadness at the mess. “Alexa, play Despacito.”

They both jolt in surprise when a robotic voice responds with, “Playing Despacito by Luis Fonsi from Spotify.”

The slow Spanish guitar intro comes in and Kurt sputters out a laugh, while Blaine practically squeals with delight at the ordeal.

“Oh my god, ha! I forgot they had one of those here,” Kurt manages through his cackling.

They bob their heads a long while the song plays, Kurt adding some sauteed mushrooms and tomatoes to the eggs while Blaine finishes up the pancakes. It must be on shuffle, because the next song that comes on is one Blaine loves, but certainly has different vibes than Despacito.

Smiles in the morning at me Apartment on the second story Strangers in a brand new city Both remembering last night Kitchen table and a bottle of wine The only thing on my mind is you

Blaine starts swaying his hips along to the music, feeling the pull of the strong beats in his chest. “Mmm,” he says, shutting his eyes. “Sara Bareilles is a gift. Her music sounds like waking up on a Sunday morning next to the person you love.”

“I love her, but I haven’t heard this one yet,” Kurt admits.

Blaine stacks the last of the pancakes on a plate, then turns to the other boy, extending his hand. “May I have this dance?” He asks with a playful glint in his eyes.

Kurt looks warily at the eggs in the pan. “Just a second, these will be ready in about two minutes.”

Blaine presses a few buttons on the stovetop. “There, timer is set. The rest of the song is only like two minutes anyways,” He wraps an arm around Kurt’s waist, feeling suddenly confident, and tugs him close. “Dance with me?”

“Oh… okay.”

The way the moonlight flickered in We were stars of some old classic film with

Miss Simone singing Pour some sugar in my bowl baby In the glow of the candlelight We danced all night On the rooftop thinking No one needs to know a thing But Miss Simone No one but Miss Simone

As they move along to the song, Kurt snakes his arms behind Blaine’s back, pulling them even closer.

Blaine reciprocates by leaning his head against Kurt’s cheek, right in the crook of his shoulder, and mumbling along to the words.

How she'd know What a heart sounds like In the glow of this candle on a rooftop in the moonlight

Someday when we're old and grey And sifting through our yesterdays We'll pull that memory from its sleeve Play that song of you and me and

“You have a really nice voice,” Kurt whispers.

“Thanks, I’ve always liked singing. This one time, I even got a whole degree in it.”

Kurt pulls his head back. “No way, me too!” He says teasingly.

They laugh for a second, before Blaine’s looking once again into Kurt’s magnetic gaze. He starts dipping his head in, closer and closer to Kurt as the song plays on.

Miss Simone singing Pour some sugar in my bowl baby In the glow of the candlelight We will dance all night On the rooftop thinking No one needs to know a thing But Miss Simone

The timer goes off just as the song winds down to a close, startling them both. 

In his surprise, Blaine drops his hands from around Kurt’s waist and pulls away.

No one but Miss Simone

“That, uh, that would be the timer,” Blaine mumbles, still staring at Kurt.

Kurt nods in agreement, still looking back as well. “I guess we should serve ourselves breakfast.”

“I suppose we should…”

*

They finish making breakfast and eat at the table. They’re both hungry, so it’s quiet for a while, but Kurt notices Blaine stealing glances every now and then—a goofy smile on his face, but there’s something behind his eyes, like a question begging to be asked.

“What?” Kurt finally pries, unable to keep a laugh from bubbling up because… because he’s really loving the way he feels around Blaine right now, bright and giddy in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.

“Nothing,” Blaine looks down at his eggs, still grinning. “I just… we have a lot in common, and as it turns out, we get along really well. I guess it just makes me wonder where we went wrong all those years ago.”

“Well for starters, you were fifteen minutes late,” Kurt says, but there’s nothing accusatory in his voice, only banter, like the way you would with an old friend.

Blaine scoffs, but Kurt can tell he's not really offended. “I was taking my final for Ms. July! You try telling that woman you’ve got somewhere else to be on her time. I might’ve been late, but at least I was alive. And I passed with flying colors.”

“Hmm, easy to believe, with those Despacito moves.”

“Laugh all you want, but you snapped your fingers at the waiters!” He contests. “The cheesecake is on its way, Kurt, it’s not going to come any faster!” 

“Okay, fair,” Kurt points his fork at Blaine. “You’re not the only one who brought that to my attention and I’ve worked on it... but you ate your salad with a fork and knife. Who does that? It was a house salad, there wasn’t even any meat in it!” 

“What was I supposed to do, put an entire cherry tomato in my mouth like some kind of barbarian!?” 

Kurt has to wipe tears from his eyes and Blaine is silently shaking with laughter. 

Blaine’s eyes are still gleaming when he says, “All that aside, I really, really liked you.”

Kurt stays silent for a second, unsure if he wants the answer to the question he’s been wondering for years. He decides that he does. “Then why did you leave? I went to the bathroom and when I came out, you were gone.”

A deep breath, and Kurt finally gets his answer. “I heard you on the phone that night.”

Oh… 

“I won’t lie, Kurt, I had a crush on you for a long time.” Kurt feels his heart flutter at that revelation. “But everyone knew you and Adam were a thing, and I didn’t have a shot. He was older, leader of the Adam’s Apples, obviously.”

Kurt’s stomach twists guiltily, unsettled, because for god’s sake, he’s known Blaine—really known him—for five days and he’s already so much more than Adam. So much more caring (he asks questions when something is wrong with Kurt, and doesn’t just ignore him until he gets over it), so much funnier and willing to be a goofball in that way Adam never is because he doesn’t believe in “acting like a child” which usually translates to “having fun”.

But even without Adam as a marker, Blaine is out of this world amazing. 

Kurt feels like an asshole for ever making him feel like he wasn’t.

Blaine sighs and continues. “So, when I heard you two were taking a break, I begged Sam to ask Mercedes to set us up.”

Kurt stays quiet, listening intently and trying to push down the guilt in his stomach.

“I um, thought things were going okay… and then you excused yourself for a really long time. I was worried something had happened, so I went to go check on you, and I heard you. Talking to him.”

Kurt remembers that conversation like it was yesterday, even stronger now, because if it hadn’t happened… would he and Blaine be something more than these weird frenemies?

“No,” he’d demanded that night on the restaurant patio. “We said we were taking a break, and you can’t just take that back because you heard I’m on a date. I let you go on plenty. That’s the point of this break. You were the one who wanted to explore your options.” He had used finger quotes even though he knew Adam I didn’t see him.

“I know, Kurt.” Adam said pathetically. “But I felt sick to my stomach as soon as I heard you were going out with someone else.”

“And you think it was a day in the park finding out from Sebastian of all people that you spent the night at his place? You know I can’t stand that guy! And he was so smug about it, too… I like this guy, Adam. I don’t know if I should be telling you that, but he’s nice, and sweet, and I didn’t seek him out just to spite you!”

He’d heard a groan on the other end of the line that at the time seemed romantic, but now Kurt realizes was just frustrated because Adam wasn’t getting his way. “I love you, Kurt.”

He gasped. That was the first time anyone besides his family had said those words to him. He feels like an idiot now for believing them.

“I… I love you, too,” Kurt responded. There was a long silence. “Okay. I’ll make up some excuse to get out of this and meet you at your place so we can talk.”

“I um…” Blaine finishes up, bringing Kurt back to the present. “It was just a huge bummer because I really liked you and I felt like you never really gave me a chance. So I went back inside, picked up my coat, and left.”

Kurt reaches across the table to grab Blaine’s hand. “I… I am so sorry, Blaine.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine shrugs dismissively. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

The last thing Kurt expects is for Blaine to actually smile at him—he certainly feels like it’s not a smile he deserves right now—and say, “Well, you’ve got until this quarantine is lifted to make it up to me.”

Part 6

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

Fic author ask meme

haha so @veliseraptor​ tagged me literally months ago, as in so long ago I have no idea when it actually was, and I didn’t get all my answers typed up until...now. actually a lot of them were typed up a few months ago and then I finally finished this yesterday on the plane home. no, I don’t know why either

Author Name: 100indecisions on AO3

Fandoms You Write For: it's pretty much all Loki at the moment and has been for the last several years. I've written for other fandoms in the past and I have others on my WIP list, but yeah, it's like 95% Loki.

Where You Post: everything is on AO3, and I do mean "everything" because I get obsessive about that sort of thing. I do still have an FFN account under ladymoriel and most of my fics are reposted there, although none of my most recent fics are because I haven't gotten around to digging up cover images for them. also FFN sucks but I crave attention/validation and there are still some people who only use FFN, so I'll get around to it at some point.

Most Popular One-Shot: for some reason “the state of my head” has 1,157 kudos on AO3, so I guess it would be that one.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: technically “the adventures of tiny Loki and Thor (and friends),” because it’s a multi-chapter fic (boy is it ever) and it has 1,020 kudos, but if we’re talking actual planned fic it would be “the kindness of strangers” at 623.

Favorite Story You Wrote: man, I don’t know. I’m partial to “I am a time bomb ticking away the hours to blow your world apart” because I like my headcanon and I think I structured it well, and “all this that is more than a wish is a memory” gets points for being the longest thing I’ve actually finished. but honestly I don’t know that I have a single favorite.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: haha well I'm sure there's been more than one, but if we're talking about the fic I was most nervous to post, I think that honor would go to my Grandthorki fic "I will kiss you till your breath is found," which is the most explicit AND most fucked-up fic I've written so far. I was nervous about...so many things with that one.

How Do You Pick Your Titles: probably 99% of them are song lyrics. sometimes I'll start with a specific song that's relevant to the fic itself in some way, but I also have a whole list of song lyrics that sound like good titles to me whether the rest of the song has anything to do with the subject of the fic. often I'll come up with a good lyric early in the process, just like "oh yeah I've had this hanging around in my list for ages and it works here"; otherwise, once I've finished or nearly finished a fic (or much earlier, actually, if I'm obsessing over an aspect of writing it that is...not actually writing, which happens a lot), if I still don't have a title I read through my whole list and make a much shorter list of titles that seem to fit this fic. if nothing from there seems just right, I’ll go hunting through my iTunes library and then Google for semi-relevant song lyrics. on occasion, though, the title comes first or otherwise shapes the direction of the fic, like with "I will kiss you till your breath is found"--I had a vague idea of what I might want to do, but it was very vague and I hadn't committed to it, and then I just happened to listen to some Sufjan Stevens and went "heyyyyy I know exactly what to do and it's terrible and I'm gonna do it, I have a title now, I have to do it"

Do You Outline: it depends on the fic. for long ones, at a minimum I'll write a bulleted list of plot points I need to hit, which often ends up being basically two or three pages of a zero draft that I then struggle to turn into actual prose...and then I often re-do the outline at least once or twice as I go along so I can compress it into something more useful that fits on one page and I can cross stuff out as I go. (if a list can’t fit on one page/view, there’s basically no way I can hold all of it in my head at once.) I often end up with shorter lists of scenes I still need to write and specific things to hit during revisions, too. for short fics it's not really necessary, although I often do still write up something similar if I've let it drag out over way too much time and I can't keep straight what I wanted to do with it. (don't be me.)

How Many of Your Stories are complete: welllll, as a rule I don't post WIPs because I know myself well enough to know that that way lies several different kinds of madness, so in general, my only completed fics are what's up on AO3, and everything there is complete. in practice that's not 100% true because I'm very bad at deadlines and I have a few different fics where I couldn't finish in time and I either posted the first chunk of the fic that still functioned as a self-contained story even if it wasn't the full story I'd planned to write, with the intention of properly finishing it later, or I did the same thing but worse because the part I posted was...not really a complete story. in my defense I've only done the latter a couple times, and in the case of "going down to nowhere" I really thought I'd be posting the rest soon because it was all written, it was just extremely rough, and for various reasons I still haven't gotten around to revising and posting the remaining 80% of the fic. (as far as the opposite issue goes, I have 0 finished fics that I haven't posted anywhere, because I'm too obsessive about being complete to do anything else. I think I do have one old, extremely short, very bad Lost fic on FFN that I never reposted to AO3 because I decided it sucked...and if we're being completely technical about it, I have some stories I wrote as a little kid that are technically fanfic because they featured licensed characters, but nobody wants to see those. all the other old stuff I haven't posted, including at least two Neopets fics, never got finished and that's the only reason I never posted them anywhere.)  

In-Progress: uhhhh. well, this made me realize my posted WIP list is out of date, not because I've finished anything on it but because I have MULTIPLE short fics that were supposed to be QUICK so I figured I didn't need to bother putting them on the list and then they weren't quick because I am so fucking bad at 1) sitting down and actually writing and 2) finishing anything. But yeah, basically what’s on there.

Coming Soon: fuck, I don’t know. Half the fics on my WIPs list are ones I thought I could crank out in one or two sittings, AND YET. But I’d like to finish the rest of my Whumptober fic soon, because that one really should be pretty easy...and I’d also like to finish the short little Endgame fix-it I thought of on my way out of the theater, where 2012!Loki hops universes and revives IW!Loki...and then there’s the even older IW/Endgame fix-it that’s basically just “everything is fine because I say so, let’s have a little recovery”, especially because I’m like 90% sure that one’s almost done but probably some of it needs typing up and then it all needs stitching together...oh, and finally getting around to finishing typing one of two notebooks reminded me that the other theoretically short fix-it where the Guardians pick up both Thor and Loki is also nearly done, I just need to finish typing it. so...one of those, probably.

Do You Accept Prompts: in theory, although I...don't think I get prompts often enough to know one way or another? plus my brain is The Worst, so my general reaction to actually getting a prompt is basically "that's interesting but I have never had an idea in my life, ever, and apparently I'm not starting now", with an added element of social anxiety or something because it's Somebody Else's Idea and that puts a mental block on my ability to develop it as my own idea. so...anyone's welcome to send me prompts, with the understanding that I might well never do anything with it and if I do, it might take literal years.

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For: I also don’t know. I mean, in recently typing up some older stuff (like the one where the Grandmaster decides publicly executing Loki sounds like a fun idea, from which I posted a couple excerpts recently) I got excited about those again, which is a good reminder of why I want to stay on top of my typing, but I don’t know if I’m more excited for one specific fic than others.

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions: I have no idea who might have answered this months ago so I’ll just say that if you read this post and you want to answer these questions, please consider yourself tagged. yes, that means you.

[gottaenjoythelittlethingzz]

@mastery-in-procrastination, who is busy doing some awesome things for the community, was kind enough to send me this ask: “How long have you been working on "The Reaper's Only Daughter"?” Tumblr ate the ask, but I was able to save my answer! I may have gone a little over broad in my explanation. Thanks for the question, now sit back and experience the journey. 

Ah yes. My origin story. I remember it like it was yesterday. Allow me to take you back, to before the beginning...

2018! For me it was the year of television (as ‘17 had been the year of the movie). I vividly remember searching for shows on IMDB to compile a sort of list in January. Some well-known, some old hat, but two in particular stuck out to me. Two my mother specifically enjoyed and had for many years. Sons of Anarchy and Shameless. I was finally at the age to where I could start enjoying these shows and so they were added to my list to be watched later. I remember reading the description of SOA and looking through pictures of tough guys on motorcycles. I knew I had to watch it!

Fast forward to May 15th. I was nearing the end of my high school/senior year. I believe I had taken all of my finals at this time and just had a few meaningless things left to turn in for one or two classes. I had just finished The Punisher (thank the godz) and was ready to start the next series. It was again between SOA and Shameless and I have never made a better or more damaging decision in my entire life than when I hit play on the pilot episode of SOA at 7 am as I was getting ready for school that Tuesday morning. Mind you, my school was a dead zone as far as internet goes, but the media godz were shinning down on me that week. I chased the signal every single day.

For the next 6 days, it was all I thought about, all I watched, all I wanted to talk about! I watched 92 episodes, roughly 70 hours of content in 6 days. Though my mother has seen it many times (as it is also her favorite series with her favorite actor(s) in it) I retold her the stories (nearly every episode, or several at a time) as I watched them. She was the first person to see me “live react” to a show in text or otherwise. She enjoyed it because she hasn’t had anyone to talk to about the show in what is now nearly 5 years and she liked hearing my takes on things. 

I stopped talking to friends, I stopped eating (not really so extreme, but I mean...), and on the last 3 nights I hardly slept. I watched it absolutely everywhere! That Friday I skipped school. I reasoned I wasn’t doing work anyway and it wasn’t going to hold me back. If my memory serves me correctly, I watched the finale of S3 through S4 and maybe a little more on either side (but for certain these 14 episodes, technically my favorite in the series) in one straight sitting. In truth, nothing was going to be able to hold me back from this show. I was hard pressed to leave my room, much less my house which made work Saturday difficult. I told my coworkers I was watching it as I jumped up and down waiting to go home (business was slow you see) and I actually left early. I have a bad habit of watching things while driving (don’t do it kids! Listen to your mother!) and actually watched an episode on the way home. 

I ended up pulling an all-nighter on Saturday trying to finish it as I had more plans Sunday. Well, it didn’t work. I fell asleep around 4 am with 4 or 5 episodes to go. I watched a few episodes to and from where I was going in the car, but on Sunday night May 20th, 2018, I watched the final two episodes of the series back to back and a weight had been lifted off my shoulders (it also left a hole in my heart, quite literally). I was no longer susceptible to spoilers and I knew the “secret”. What’s more, I completely, 100% agreed with the creator’s decision as to how and when he ended the show. 

SOA was the first show that ever captivated my attention in such a way. I was never bored, not for a minute. I wouldn’t call many of the episodes fillers even now that I’ve watched each a couple of times (too many to count, for research purposes, I assure you.) And it is one of the most consistent as far as new ideas and character development/design I have ever seen. What's more is I absolutely adore the main cast and characters alike. It honestly took over my life and has changed it for the better. So much so, that it was still all I thought about for several weeks after I finished it. To the point where I had to watch it again top to bottom, though it took me about 2 weeks while sleeping that time. I’ve never watched a show like that, before or since, no matter how much I like a series.

Alas, life goes on, there were more shows to watch, and for the next month or so I turned to watching Shameless (another story entirely) and, though I didn’t want to, I stopped thinking about SOA for a time. That was, until I started thinking about moving to college. My mother had an SOA poster that use to be in her office that she gave to me to put in my apartment. I wake up every morning to see it hanging over my bed and I am reminded that I should be writing TROD. I went down to my college apartment about a week before term started. It was the first time I was technically on my own, though I have roommates, and you will never guess what I did during that week. Go ahead, guess. I did 2 things, actually.

I rewatched SOA, though this time I stopped on series 5 (and if you’ve seen it you may know why) and I “broke down” and created a Writeblr. I’ve always loved to write and actually was in the process of shelving what was originally meant to be my first novel length WIP (on the grounds that it did not have a plot to hold the characters together) that now hasn’t been updated in 6+ months. During this third rewatch an idea came to me. “What would it be like to be in this world?” More specifically, “What would it be like to be a woman in this world”?

This was apparently the right question to ask. The rest is history, swirling into a big black and crow feathered blur. I spent a few months creating Schuyler. I slowly stopped talking about the shelved WIP online and started answering questions for her instead. I figured if I was going to shelve 1 project I had better have another to replace it with, and so TROD was born! I nearly immediately had a character personality and a title when I started. The name Schuyler and her family lineage to link her to the canon story took more time. But while I was thinking of all the technical stuff I was also imagining all the fun scenes that would take place in this imaginary novel I was picturing.

I spent so much time thinking about it, specifically the first chapter which you have seen is now available to read on this blog, that the first time I sat down to write I wrote out 5,000 words flat. Many remained in what is currently “the final draft”. This had never happened to me before and I was inspired! I have been working on it ever since. As far as physically writing for it I have only been writing TROD for about 4 months. But in actuality, TROD has been a project a long time in the making. Nearly 9 months of thought and devotion to a Fandom nearly gone, but I’m here now to carry the torch!

9 months in and I have 6 moodboards, a chapter, and far too many tag games/posts to count. I have roughly 30k words written (continuously, obsessively tweaking the first 3 chapters) and another 2k or so of notes (outlines, dialogue lines, and ideas for scenes). This is actually the first story where I’m consulting a sort of outline (my own that I’m always adding to, but also the canon story) and it’s been my best writing experience to date!

This project is going to be long. Longer than anything I’ve ever dreamed of taking on before. I still have much to explore, plot kinks to work through, and many months, if not years, of work to go. But w/o SOA I would have never become so involved in media (as now I want to make it my career), met some of my favorite actors, created my Writeblr or been inspired to continue writing, and I certainly never would have entered into this inclusive community or met so many awesome writers!

*Whew. That was a lot. But SOA and my WIP TROD means a lot to me as you can see. Thanks so much for the ask. Feel free to stop by anytime! 

I’m also going to tag @themildestofwriters as I know you may be thinking about diving into this series yourself and I want to both warn you and wish you well if you choose to do so!

And @aspire2bu, as I believe I saw you post recently about how you first got into K-pop in the first place and I found it interesting. Hopefully you’ll find this interesting too!

[elenajohansenauthor]

Fictober, Day 6: “I’ve heard enough, this ends now.”

OCs: Shannon and Noah

Project: Untitled paranormal romance for Fictober18, now tagged #spookyromancenovel on my blog

Potential Triggers: really emotional shouting!

Word Count: 2,432 (um, wow, I had no idea I’d written so much today, it was just flowing out of me)

About: The rest of the scene I started with yesterday’s prompt. The first big fight between my lovebirds, and the first time I get to make it clear what they each value most.

Again, #spookyromancenovel has a WIP page now, where you can find all the Fictober posts if you need to catch up, as well as the novel’s [temporary] blurb, character info, and eventually world-building stuff! I’d really appreciate asks from anyone who’s interested in knowing more.

Eating the pizza seemed to improve his mood, but I bit my lip against giggling when his stomach growled loudly—after he'd finished the slice. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don't worry about it. Let's get started, so you can get out as soon as the sun's down.”

He surveyed the table. “This looks alarmingly like all the times we crammed for tests together.”

Just like that, a hundred memories competed for space in my head all at once. Being neighbors had led to us being friends, in the way that kids will when they're young and geography is more important than shared interests. Staying friends throughout high school had naturally evolved into study partners. Both sets of our parents approved, which was great—as long as we studied camped out in the living room at his house, at least. Noah's mother was the type convinced that “studying” in private meant something entirely different, and no way was her son going to waste his education kissing girls.

My parents hadn't cared one bit where we studied, because as far as they were concerned, if I couldn't find a nice Vietnamese boy to settled down with, at least Noah was some form of Asian. Half-Japanese was fine with them, so if we wanted to canoodle, that was all good, as long as I didn't “get into trouble.”

The only sex talk I'd ever gotten from my parents was a repeated string of warnings not to get into trouble. I couldn't blame them, though, for my complete lack of a sex life. I was never the type to rebel against authority just because, and I realized early on that dating someone who didn't look like me just to annoy my parents—anyone, white or black or brown—would make me pretty awful. So I tried to have crushes, and I tried not to restrict myself to any one type of guy.

It didn't end up mattering, because I'd had my heart set on Noah since I was six years old. No one else measured up.

But I wasn't supposed to be mooning over him now, while he watched me space out with a faintly curious and concerned expression. Good sign—he wasn't as numb to emotion as he feared. I rallied myself by grabbing the nearest notebook and looking through it with one hand, while picking up a fresh piece of pizza with the other. “So, let's break this problem down to basics, which means even obvious shit is back on the table. What makes you, Noah Hargrove, different from any other human afflicted by the gargoyle curse?”

“Other humans didn't have their heart removed and replaced with a magically driven construct.” He thought for a moment.

I switched to my current Noah-notebook and started a fresh page with “BRAINSTORMING” in giant letters across the blank space at the top. His response became item number one on a list under the heading Noah's Not Normal. “What else makes you different? Literally anything you can think of. Like—a congenital defect of some kind. Asthma. Whatever.”

“You know I don't have asthma. But, uh...I had my appendix out, remember? When I was ten.” He smiled. “I think I still have the get-well card you made me, in a box somewhere. Or, my parents do, I mean.”

Noah's current relationship with them was far too complicated for me to touch, not now, when we needed to focus. “Right. I doubt the lack of appendix is helping you resist the curse, but it goes on the list.”

By the time I'd finished the pizza, we hadn't come up with anything else relating to his body. He'd been a generally healthy kid, aside from an occasional injury or case of the sniffles. And we'd ruled out any neurodivergence, because he thought his mild social anxiety as a teen couldn't possibly have been a factor, not when he'd taken steps to get over it long before the curse hit him.

“It's weird, though,” he added thoughtfully. “In a lot of ways, this, this isolation, like you called it, reminds me of how I felt then, when I could hardly talk to anyone.”

“Except me.” The parallel was obvious, as soon as he mentioned it.

“Except you. Thanks for always being there for me.”

That. That right there was why I'd been in love with Noah as long as I'd known him, even before I'd realized that how I felt had a name. He'd never pretended he was tough, that he didn't feel things. And he never let an opportunity to thank someone pass him by.

I studied the two-item list so I didn't have to keep looking into his eyes. Missing heart, missing appendix. “This is an ancient curse, and ways of thinking always shape magic. It's from a time before people understood that the brain is the organ of reason, intelligence, and personality. So taking out your heart is what's preventing the transformation from completing.”

“I'm glad you didn't try to take out my brain instead.” Completely serious. “But how did you know what to do?”

“Honestly? Best guess. I know I seemed calm, but I was panicking inside. You were dying.” It was easy to admit when I didn't have to see his reaction. “But most curses involve blood, somehow. If not in casting or transmission, at least to spread it through the body. There's a reason blood magic has such an unsavory reputation. Blood is power. It can be used to good purpose, but it lends itself far better to evil.”

“I think the vampires agree with you.” He paused. “Is that why they hate gargoyles so much? I mean, I don't want to be one, but as far as monsters go, they're reasonably benign. They just, I don't know, hang out on top of the Cathedral and fly around at night to find ghouls and dead animals to eat. I've always thought—well, scavengers do have their place in the food chain.”

“Vampires hate gargoyles?” This was news to me.

“Oh, yeah,” Noah said, almost off-handedly. “It's even in the news. That Conclave that got postponed due to bomb threats? You know, in D.C., between the government and the Vampire Embassy? The proposals were posted online, and I read them. It's low on the list of priorities, but the vampires want recognized government assistance in the extermination of gargoyles.”

I remembered the Conclave being announced, but somehow its postponement hadn't been a blip on my radar, and I sure as hell hadn't paid any attention to what the vampires actually wanted. My stunned confusion that Noah had must have shown. He said, “Miss Conquer with Research doesn't pay attention to politics?”

“Mr. Ghoul Hunter on the Run does?”

“Well, if the entire vampire nation would want to hunt me down and kill me, that's worth knowing.”

“Right. Okay.” I thought for a moment. “Did they want to exterminate anyone else? Like werewolves or banshees or something?”

Noah shook his head. “The whole vampire-werewolf thing is mostly fictional, far as I can tell. Werewolves can't be turned, and vampires, being dead and all, don't get infected with lycanthropy. So they're not really a threat to each other. From what I've seen, as long as the vamps respect wolf territory, there's an understanding of mutual non-aggression.”

“Which is basically how the wolves treat everyone. Got it. I never really researched vampires much, aside from confirming that trying to turn you not only wouldn't lift the curse, it also wouldn't work. Which let me sleep better at night, I'll admit—if vampire were made of stone and could fly, it wouldn't take many of them to pretty much wipe out humans. But if I had been paying more attention, I would have heard about the work on the Archives ages ago, not just today.”

Noah made some small noise, and I looked up to find pure fear on his face. “What?”

I gave him the condensed version of what Wes had told me, finishing up with: “So, I thought, I know it's a stretch but if I could figure out some way to get in there, I'd have access to so much. I'm not expecting to spend an hour there and find a cure, I'm not that naive, but anything I can learn could help.”

“No.”

His flat denial of the first ray of hope I'd had in far too long hurt more than I'd care to admit, and when I go on the defensive, I get flustered. “I wouldn't do it if I couldn't find a way that didn't guarantee my safety--”

“No,” he repeated, louder. “Don't try to find the Archives. It's too risky.”

“But Wes--”

“Wes sounds like a magical wunderkind and all, but don't assume you understand what's going on. Vampires aren't benevolent, they don't share for no reason. If Wes has a skill they can use, they'll barter for it, and they won't turn him instead  to get it for free because vampirism wipes out magic. But you don't have that defense.”

“I'm a Healer!” I protested. I hated arguing with Noah, and this sounded like it was heading for a real fight, but if he wanted to be a sanctimonious ass about my safety, he deserved it. “What good would it do to make me into a plain-Jane vampire?”

“If they managed to get in and saw you doing research about preventing gargoyle transformation--”

“Why wouldn't they want that?” I interrupted. “If they hate gargoyles so much--”

“That would only stop more humans from becoming them, not do anything about the ones that already exist. And that's not my point. You show them you're a genius, and they'll want you to be their genius. Vampires collect people. They'd want you.” He huffed. “It wouldn't even take that. You're gorgeous, they'd turn you and make you into one of their seductresses.”

“What?” Which part of that hurt worst? That Noah casually called me “gorgeous” in the middle of a fight, or that he thought it was a bad thing which made me a candidate for vampire hooker?

He mistook my question for an actual request for enlightenment. “You know the stereotype, Shannon, pretty Asian girl, slinky dress, the fangs only come out after the guy gets what he wants--”

I stood clumsily, knocking the pizza box off the table and banging my shin painfully in the process. “I've heard enough, this ends now. I don't care if you think you're protecting me, you do not get to talk about me like that, like I'm just some, some thing, and you do not get to tell me I'm too young and pretty and unworldly and stupid not to realize that getting into the Archives would be dangerous.”

Noah stood, towering over me. “I never said--”

I was on a roll, though. I rode the momentum and really let him have it, even though part of me feared going too far. Only I didn't know if that meant saying something I could never take back, or pushing Noah to hurt me. I was so angry I almost didn't care. “You call me a genius in one breath, then act I'm an airhead too stupid to live the next. Oh, sorry, big magical protector, didn't mean to threaten your masculinity by assuming I was allowed to look out for myself. What did you think I was going to do, walk into a vampire den and calmly ask them, please don't bite me, take me to your secret collection of priceless manuscripts instead? If I do this, I will have a plan. One that doesn't involve me becoming either a vampire or a freaking prostitute, by the way!”

He grabbed my shoulders from across the table and drew me in. His hands were huge, strong, and uncomfortably cool, but the pressure was gentle. “Promise me you won't do this.”

“No.” I made the single syllable every bit as hard and cold and definite as the stone he was turning into. “How can you ask me not to pursue something that might save you? And you're not even asking, you're demanding.”

He took several heaving breaths before he spoke. I expected rage—I got sadness. “How can you ask me to stand by while you risk your life? What you've been doing so far, devoting yourself to find a solution, that's already so much of your life you've given up for me, don't think I don't understand that. If you save me, but lose yourself in the process—how could I ever live with the guilt?”

Damn him. Damn him for being right, while also being so, so wrong. I put my hands on his chest and pushed, not because I could break free, but because he would know to let me go. I couldn't win against that argument, but I was too riled to capitulate. I ran to my room instead, like any naive, stupid little girl would do. I slammed the door and locked it behind me.

Five or ten minutes into a really satisfying cry, I heard a tap on my door. “Shannon? Are you okay?”

Dumb question, but Noah had never been great at dealing with me when I cried. He did his best, he tried, but it never got easy for him, and I'd had to forgive a lot of well-meaning bumbling over the years. Being direct usually worked best. “I don't want to talk to you right now,” I told him, loudly enough to be clear through the door.

“Okay. When you are, I'd like to apologize.” Not the first time we'd had this exchange.

“Okay.”

“I'll leave you alone, then.”

I cried myself out in maybe half an hour, then lay listlessly in bed, trying not to think about the things he'd said, and failing. Another tap came on the door. He could break it down if he weren't careful, and we both knew it.

“Sun's down. I just, I wanted to let you know I'm going out. I'll try not to wake you when I come back.”

If I didn't answer, he might think I was asleep already, but I doubt he'd believe it. Too early. And he'd worry. I was still angry, but I didn't take any pleasure in being cruel to him. “Okay. Stay safe.”

“You, too.”

When the front door shut, I started to cry again, even though I didn't really understand why.